


Imprisoning

by orphan_account



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Captivity, Denial, Depression, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 13:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6054141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wing is worried that all the time spent in captivity is having an effect on Drift. The Decepticon, of course, doesn’t believe so. It seems circumstance will just have to prove him wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imprisoning

The Crystal City was beautiful and incredible, a clear symbol of integrity and what could be accomplished with cooperation and dedication. It was peaceful and without war, citizens all looking out for each other without fear of being deceived or back stabbed. There was no judgement and no prejudice, the only concern being that each and everyone one of the citizens were pleased with their lifestyle and not left to fend for themselves. These mechs did not know the war as the ones on the front lines had, and never would as long as they stayed in their underground hideaway. Instead of polishing their guns, they polished the buildings until you could see your own reflection and spent their days doing casual hobbies rather than training exercises. The violence that was so common on Cybertron and beyond now was almost unheard of, simply a bittersweet memory besides for those that trained their minds and bodies regularly. Some might call it paradise.

Drift called it a prison.

He was confined, locked away and treated like scum despite the apparent luxuries he had been given. In fear of him spreading rumours about their city and endangering what they had worked so hard to build he not allowed to leave under his own power. It was a prison, a beautiful prison, but without a doubt still a prison. The hope of being able to escape was dwindling after each failed attempt, and with each passing day, the once proud and vengeful Decepticon lost more of his signature motivation. Wing, his chaperon, on the other hand, had not changed one bit, still the same smiling face, even though the darker parts of him had been exposed. With each passing day, that beautiful city and lost more and more of the innocence it had been built on. Wing could be considered the same.

The two of them had just returned from another day of training, with still no major results coming from Drift. The word frustrating couldn’t come close in comparison to the bitter resentment he felt brewing inside of him. It never seemed like he was making progress, not even after presumably perfecting an exercise. Wing was always a step ahead of him, never revealing his absolute power so that it constantly felt like Drift could never get the upper hand. The unbalance of capability was astounding and increasingly intimidating.

For someone so well trained, it was a shame that Wing was wasting his skills here in the underground city, alongside cowards that couldn’t face the problem affecting Cybertronians with pride. No, instead their interests lay in being concealed from the world so that they themselves would benefit, ignoring any and all cries for help above ground. The more Drift thought about it, the angrier he became, and he poured out all of his vexation on Wing when the two collided. Not once had he held back, even if the day before’s training was still taking its toll on him. He couldn’t stop, not for a second. There was a war to return to, and this relentless vacation had gone on far enough.

Trying to escape the quarters was a different challenge entirely. Wing always kept the main doors locked, and rather, used the overseeing balcony to avoid making a mistake and letting Drift out. For Wing, it was nothing, but for Drift, another inconvenience. He had tried using it as an escape plan once, in devastating determination to return to his Decepticons he threw himself off of the balcony, despite it being on the uppermost level. The damage caused him to be put out of function for several days, and Wing now locked Drift away to avoid letting it happen again. Totally misreading the signals, the knight had assumed it was an act of suicide to escape from his inevitable fate, and now the two shared Wing’s personal quarters. The attempt had done more harm than good in the end, with the only knowledge gained being that he could not successfully land from this height. He would need to be on a lower level to recover in time to flee.

But the only time he was allowed out on the lower levels was for training, the same repetitive training that was now becoming redundant. Since Wing was beside him at all times, he could not manage to sneak away undetected, and the ever bothersome city folk would know he was an outsider the instant they laid optics on his Decepticon insignia. It was so unfair, the scales unevenly weighed against him.

It got to the point where Drift was starting to find less purpose in training and laid motionless on the berth, not moving an inch when dragged regardless of his wishes. It started as a plan to have Wing lower his defences and calm his paranoia, but it blew up in his faceplates. All it earned him was another trip to Redline as Wing frantically tried to avoid the overwhelming fangs of depression that had apparently sunken into Drift. However, for some reason, despite stating he was willing to listen to Drift so the two could move on, Wing had dismissed him whenever his roommate had pleaded to being in stable condition, and so here he was, trapped inside a room with a mech he hoped one day he would never have to see again.

Wing was rearranging something, but it was out of view. His ever beautiful wings were still kept in their usual formation on his back, not bothering to twitch even under intense concentration. With nothing else to focus on, Drift let his sights rest on the knight, wishing the daggers he was glaring at Wing’s back actually existed. But with each passing moment, the need for violence bled out, and he soon found himself trying to lull his processor into recharge with the hypnotic movements of the white plating. It, of course, backfired, as Wing turned around after not hearing any peep of noise from Drift for quite some time. He expected the peerless jet to simply glance at him for a short while and eventually go back to whatever mundane task he was occupying himself with, but instead, Wing was making his way towards him, helm shaking faintly.

“Drift, come on. You’ve been doing nothing but recharging, it is really starting to worry me.” Oh, more of the mental health awareness coming from his own warden, how nice. Drift tried to turn on his other side but Wing had extended an unyielding servo, which gripped his shoulder firmly enough to prevent him from doing so.

“Well what do you expect me to do, smart one,” Drift growled, trying to dislodge the limb, “It’s not like I can go anywhere else to cure my boredom. May as well just sleep it off and let my self-repairs work properly.” Wing still looked unconvinced, but it was pointless to try and reason with him any further. He could get a scientist in here and have him prove through a long equation that Drift was okay and Wing would still try to find a reason to be worried.

“I’m going to see if Axe can take you out for a while so you’re not crammed in here for too long. That’s something to look forward to.” Drift wrenched his shoulder away and rolled over, ignoring him. At worst, it would be a pointless walk around, admiring artificial scenery, and at best, something to occupy his time. He should be building up strength and trying to think of a way to escape, not be touring around as though nothing is wrong. Unlike them, he couldn’t pretend there was no war and stand around swinging swords like an imbecile, there were more important things to focus on. After a few moments of pregnant silence, Wing had given up trying to wring out a response and stood, moving away from the berth-ridden Decepticon.

“I suppose you want to be alone then, my apologies. I need to head out to training for tonight, so please keep safe. I’ll return as soon as possible, and hopefully with word from Axe.” Maintaining a soft smile, Wing strangely held Drift’s gaze for a moment longer before turning away and leaving the room for his daily departure which had by now become routine. However, something was off.

 

The lock didn’t sound.

 

Whenever he was left unattended in the personal quarters, Wing always made sure to lock the door so he wouldn’t be tempted to jump over the balcony again. Drift was only allowed in other rooms if Wing was there to supervise and make sure he wouldn’t plot out another escape that could very well end up deactivating him. In his haste today though, it seemed he had forgotten. It was unlikely Wing would forget again considering his past record and Drift was willing to take any chance he was given, so calmly and without making any sort of unnecessary noise, he rose and made his way towards the entrance. It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, not a drastic one, but noticeable. He would still have to pass the pesky door lock on the other side but he was willing to appreciate any victory, even one as little as this.

After waiting a few minutes to let Wing move out, he opened the door without desperation, just as a precaution. The familiar section of the room became occurrent and Wing was nowhere to be seen. Drift crept forward, the final doors almost begging to be smashed to pieces. He had stood by these doors all this time, not resorting to predatory violence to get his escape so he could maintain what little dignity he had left, but with this possibly being his last given chance, he had to make it count. Wing would be gone until late tonight, so he needed to get out this time, and stay out for good. The unseen madness swirled within and his plates tightened against him as his remaining fangs were bared in a challenge. Just try to hold me back this time.

As he growled slightly, preparing to land a solid hit on the doors, an unexpected servo found its way on his shoulder plates. Startled, Drift stepped back awkwardly and met optics with Wing, who he had presumed to have left by now. In his initial shock, Drift could do no more than stare, but the neutral expression soon twisted to one of anger. Wing didn’t move unhurriedly, and if he had wanted to leave by now, he would have. Drift also would have likely heard the creak of the separate glass doors to the balcony, which he didn’t. That means Wing was likely waiting here for him to notice his mistake, tempting the Decepticon with the freedom he would never give. Why else would Drift had not immediately sighted him? The small ledge to the left of Wing’s personal quarters provided a perfect hiding place and there was no reason for Wing to be there unless he was waiting, as the area was abandoned. What a dirty trick.

“It’s good to have you-“ He didn’t get to finish what he had to say, Drift was already flinging himself at him. It was a setup! Of course, only Wing would play dirty to get him to rise up and walk like he’d pleaded for. And he was supposed to be the ‘honourable’ one. Ha! What a pity he had to figure out that it was all a lie. Similar to his sparring, he held nothing back, letting punch after punch land on Wing’s chassis. It didn’t last long though, as Wing soon came back from the shock he had been thrown into and started defending himself from the countless blows.

In desperation to quell the anger of the Decepticon, Wing didn’t fight back, letting his frame be targeted as though punishment for his crimes. At one punch, Drift was slightly off balance, and Wing took the opportunity to rush forward and flip the enraged mech on his back. From there, Wing slowly let Drift get more tired, doing nothing more than throwing him, letting him recover, and then blocking blows, rinse and repeat. After this had been duplicated several times, Drift found himself laying broken on the floor, allowing Wing to pick him up with little effort and carry him back to the room as he would a lover. The door locked behind them, no longer allowing Drift the little freedom he so craved.

 

That was the breaking point.

 

It was no use anymore, no escape would be permitted. As Wing had practically predicted, he was here forever, and the thought of freedom had been ripped from him, crushed like the many sparks he had taken with his own servos. The rest of his days would consist of being locked away, never to see the sunlight again, and to utterly submit to rust under his own shame. What was the point of working towards returning to the war he would never be able to witness again. He was going to die here, alone and possibly indoctrinated.

Similar to a switch turning off a light, the revelation made Drift immediately stop struggling and instead, fall limp in the hold, still in shock. After being placed on the berth and still refusing to move or even react, Wing was frowning. Drift managed to keep his straight face up throughout all of this, and only once Wing had turned away did he let the facade drop. A soft whimper too silent to catch slipped free, followed by gasping as though he couldn't breathe. He kept as quiet as possible, but soon he was practically heaving, catching the attention of Wing, who was now rushing back over to him and frantically trying to figure out what the problem was.

“Drift? Please talk to me. You don’t have to keep hiding it. I'm here to listen, so please don't keep pushing me away,” Wing treaded, trying to lay a servo on Drift’s shoulder as a means of support, "I did that because you were not getting up anymore, and I was worried you never would even under dire circumstances. I'm worried sick Drift, I want what is best for you Drift and this is j-" Drift swatted away the extended black servo and his frustrated azure optics sharply met the knight, oozing every ounce of hatred he could muster.

“I could talk until I was deactivated and you still wouldn’t listen! I’m a prisoner Wing, caged in and let to rot, a-and you think I’m just going to be okay and better yet, accept you! I’m going to die here, I-I’m going to die here!” He was shrieking, a mixture of dread and alarm overriding his cold demeanour that he had worked so hard to install. Wing, as the passive neutral stood motionless by the door, simply observing the astray Decepticon shake and tremor under his own mental barriers.

Baring his subdued fangs as a lasting attempt to have Wing leave him alone, Drift found himself turning his back and burying his face into the caved in corners of the room, openly sobbing out his frustrations for all to hear. Had he been with the Decepticons at this time, he would have been beaten and mocked for showing a weakness through pitiful means of crying, but he wasn’t among Megatron’s army anymore, and might never be again. Even on the odd chance he did make it back, they would never accept him. Turmoil would simply be laughing over his energon stained corpse.

"Drift, I'm sorry. I just didn't know what to do," Wing murmured, moving forward to comfort Drift. The mech in question tried to swipe with his non-existent claws when the other got close but only managed to have his servos grasped by Wing’s own and pulled forth. He kicked and screamed in Wing’s hold, sinking his denta into any given exposure and spitting forth every curse nested in his database. Throughout it all, Wing said nothing, and only cradled him closer, refusing to budge even when energon sprang free from the injuries and dripped down onto various plates.

Eventually, the infuriated Drift tired himself out and simply sobbed into the delicate neck cables of the other. The embrace that was once so detaining now held him close in a blanket of some twisted form of comfort, murmuring sweet nothings in an attempt to keep him calm. Digits found his sensitive finials and stroked persistently, soothing him to the best of their ability. The sweet nothings became promises of what life would be like from now on, and each had their way of luring him in and making the future seem so bright and so worthy, a way to keep him from giving up.

But the minute Wing mentioned living in the city as one of their own, Drift remembered the very reason why he was stuck here, and that fake sense of calm was shattered. He bucked and whined, causing Wing to tighten his grasp again and tuck him in closer, giving his best effort into holding him still.

“Wiiing- please please please I can’t do this. I promise I won’t tell anyone, I’ll keep it a secret between you and me, no one has to know! Just let me go, let me go,” Wing couldn’t meet his gaze, them both knowing it was impossible and the outcome was inevitable. Dai Atlas would refuse, and a little, selfish voice in Wing didn’t want Drift to leave either. Already he was changing, this being the first time he had seen Drift cry since he had arrived. He couldn’t just give up now and abandon someone in such great need, shown directly when the proud Decepticon broke down completely before his very optics. It was obvious Drift needed help and whether or not he wanted it, Wing was going to give it. It was the only way he could be free.

“Shh- I won’t ever let you go Drift, don’t think about it anymore.” It did more harm than good, as Drift assumed it was a metaphor for his future imprisonment rather than take it as a comfort. Without the energy or leverage to move, Drift chose the vocal approach, heaving and hissing, letting his sharp fangs nick the cables presented to him. Slightly cursing the incorrect wording, Wing cautiously stood up from the corner and while still carrying the other, made his way towards the empty berth and sat down to steady himself. Redline would likely be busy at the moment with patients after the scheduled training, so Wing made the decision to wait until morning. Hopefully by then, Drift would be calmed down. The mech in question was still wailing, but not as harshly as before.

After Drift had been somewhat pacified, Wing used his digits to wipe away the remaining coolant. Pressing their faceplates together, he stared into the deep blue optics presented, overcome with grief. He kept moving closer, until his vented breaths mixed with Drift’s own. His presence cloaked over Drift’s, overwhelming him with nothing but Wing.

Surprisingly enough, it was Drift who connected them with a chaste kiss, trying to purge the loneliness that had been eating him inside out from day one, but only managing to awkwardly engage Wing without any sort of relief. Embarrassed, he refused to meet the knight's gaze, and tucked his head into Wing’s plating, wanting nothing more than to have shadows blanket him and swallow him alive. It seemed the better way to go, and he barely noticed Wing laying back to make them both more comfortable.

“I’ll keep you safe Drift, I’ll keep you safe,” Wing repeated over and over again until Drift’s optics felt too heavy to keep open. They flickered slightly, wanting to stay shuttered and not be subject to this cruel world anymore. It was a one-sided battle, with the exhaustion from training alongside the soft purring noises and vibrations provided from Wing adding insult to injury. Reluctantly, Drift found himself drowning under the ocean undertow that was sleep as it steadily pulled him under.

As the tear stained Decepticon slowly drifted into recharge, Wing let out a shaky vent he had been holding back, nuzzling the other’s unconscious form and holding him securely in his arms. He wouldn’t let Dai Atlas take him away, not when they had both come so far. This was progress, the only question is what would happen from this point on.

Lightly stroking over his white finials one last time, Wing succumbed to recharge, cocooning and protecting the smaller frame before him.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT : Fixed a few glaring errors and edited a majority of the text, including reformatting the story so it won't play out as clunky as it did before. Hopefully it is at least readable now. Thanks so much for all the Kudos!   
> I'm sorry this isn’t my best work. It was thrown together as a means of stress relief so there are most likely glaring errors I have overlooked. Hopefully it still has some value to it, even if it’s shabby.  
> Thanks for reading! I'll likely make better content with my upcoming posts. :)


End file.
